


My Hands Are Yours

by WritingsOfAHobbit



Series: Thranduil/Reader Stories [15]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 09:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4299543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingsOfAHobbit/pseuds/WritingsOfAHobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hello amazing writer! Can you please write a oneshot smut of Thranduil x wife? Based on the prompt “imagine being thranduil’s wife and feeling neglected, so you decide to pleasure yourself. thranduil walks in and is upset because that’s his job and takes over for you”. (from imaginexhobbit). Thanks so much!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Hands Are Yours

The world of politics is not something that you are particularly interested in. The entire concept exists solely to bore people half to death, and then to provide an excuse to finish the job. Politics itself is a battlefield, just one with words and wit, rather than sword and arrow. So, to spare himself the ‘I-hate-you’ glares and the uninterested huffs, Thranduil has excused you from every political meeting that isn’t deemed incredibly important by your standards. Unfortunately he can’t extend the same courtesy to himself, so you now spend many hours alone.

The solitude had been welcomed at first. You could tend to your own duties and catch up with friends, but after a while you grew tired of it. You were so used to spending time with Thranduil, that his sudden absence was difficult. Even more so because he no longer had time to attend to his duties as a husband.

Those very same duties would be greatly appreciated at this moment in time. You had had a craving for your husband from the moment you had awoken this morning.  Unfortunately he had already left and you had been alone. You had hoped to see him at some point during the day, and so had dressed in a tight fitting green dress with a low neckline, but alas you’d had no such luck.  However the cool air across your breasts and one or two sideways glances from younger elves had you squirming in your seat and sticking to your underclothes. By the time you had bid your maids goodbye your thighs were practically sticking together.

Once you were sure that your maids were gone you locked the door, setting the key down on the dresser. You made your way over to the bed and sat down on the edge,  toeing off your boots.  With a sigh you run your fingers through your hair and undo the loose braids and remove the flowers woven into them. Once free your locks tumble over your shoulders, a few strands catching on the threads of your gown. You flick them away and set the tips of your fingers lightly on your collar bones.

With a deep  sigh you close your eyes and run your fingertips over the top of your breasts. The skin is soft and your breasts heave as they would normally, but you do not feel the spark of fire that Thranduil ignites within you.

You stand and unlock the front of your dress, allowing the fabric to fall and catch on your hips. You shiver slightly as the cool air brushes clamorous your skin, drawing your nipples into small peaks.

The dress falls the rest of the way to the ground with a little encouragement, as does your underclothes. Then you stand in the middle of the room, exposed to the world. Usually Thranduil would now stand back and take his time running his hungry gaze over your body. Even in his absence you can recall that look with perfect clarity.

You run the palms of your hand downs your chest, cup yours breasts and then push your fingers further south towards what has been distracting you all day.

As your fingers brush your hip bones you pull your hands away.

Everything is starting to feel very slick, and as you lay back down on the bed your thighs rub together smoothly.

Once stretched out on the bed your draw your feet up to your behind and allow your legs to fall apart, your hands resuming their downward journey.  

This is usually the part that Thranduil would draw out for what felt like days. He was a master at tearing you to the point where you wanted to cry and kill him. If felt rather nice to skip it and get straight to it.

You suck in a breath as your fingers are finally able to pay attention to your small bud, the gentle contact sending sparks and waves of warmth through your lower body.

Your fingers dance along slick folds, one easily slipping into your entrance. You gently push the finger inside, imagining it to be Thranduil’s own exploratory digit.

A second finger is quick to join the first, and you locate the bundle of nerves on your walls and begin to rub it gently.

Your other hand comes to rest on your thigh, tracing it lightly and drawing patterns on the skin as it makes its way towards the small bud.

When your fingertips come into contact with it all of the muscles in your lower body seem to contract as one in anticipation.

You quickly fall into a rhythm of gentle caresses and light pressure. You don’t intend to reach a release immediately, and adopt some of Thranduil’s teasing techniques.  

Your eyes are still firmly closed and your head rolls lightly against the bedsheets as your ministrations continue. It’s not truly as good as what your husband does to you, but the feelings are still wonderful.  Even with your light actions, release will not be long.

“What are you doing?”

Your heart stutters to a painful stop, clawing it’s way from your chest.  You rip your hands away from your body so fast that it is almost painful. You jerk your body into a sitting position,  attempt ion to cover as much of yourself as possible against the intruder.

“Thranduil!” You snap,  your fear of discovery instantly subsiding.  "You frightened me half to death!“

Thranduil says nothing, just stands at the foot of the bed with his head tilted to one side and confusion plain on his face.

Self consciousness is quick to wash over you, followed closely by a healthy dose of embarrassment.  "What?”

“What are you doing?” he repeats, and you feel a hot blush rise to his cheeks.

“Well, I….. uh… hm.” You fight off the urge to look away. This is your husband for pities sake. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before! “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like you’re doing my job.”

“Well, you were busy.”

“You could have sent for me.”

You laugh. “Yes, I’m sure that your council would be thrilled that you had to leave in order to tend to your horny wife’s needs.”

“They didn’t need to know the details.” Thranduil says slowly, sinking to his knees at the foot of the bed. He reaches out and wraps slender fingers around your ankle. With a short, sharp tug he pulls you to the end of the bed. You squeak, your weight pulling you onto your back. “You should know that I’m unhappy about this.”

Thranduil reaches up and pulls both of your hands towards his face. Your fingers are tacky where the dampness has dried on them. You can’t help the moan and the squirm which escapes you when he pulls your fingers into his mouth and sucks on them. Your husband’s tongue gently traces the pads of your fingers, licking them clean as his eyes grow dark. “There. Now the evidence has gone.” 

The evidence may be gone, but the desire still remains. Thranduil seems to realise as much and releases your hands, instead taking a grip on your thighs. His palms run down to your knees and hook your legs over his shoulders, before running back up to hold onto your waist.

Your cross your legs behind his head and pull his lips to yours. He smiles against you, breathing warm air over your already tingling pearl. Your breathing is uneven as you scowl at him.

Thranduil’s lips quirk once more before his mouth opens and his tongue presses firmly against your entrance.

A low moan escapes you as your head flops back against the bed. This is what you’ve been desperate before since you woke up this morning.

Thranduil runs his tongue up from the bottom of your entrance to the top of your pearl, circles the bud once and then repeats his motions in reverse. You don’t care much for the beginning and the end of the motion until his tongue dips briefly inside you.

His tongue is quickly replaced by two fingers, which gently ease their way inside of you. They quickly seek out the nerves that you had been caressing only minutes ago, but he is far more skilled at working them.

Fingers now taking half of the work, his tongue is free to flick rhythmically against your clit. As he flicks he lightly sucks and his mouth quickly establishes a rhythm with his fingers.  One of your hands seek out the one that still holds your waist, whilst the other tangles tightly in his hair.

Your pants and soft moans quickly fill the room like an obscene song, with the sound of his mouth and his wet fingers accompanying you. The sounds alone are enough to make you want to reach the height of your pleasure.

Thranduil is more than aware of this and starts to hum a low tone. The vibrations tend the sparks inside of you and it is not long before you can feel the fire begin to grow.

Thranduil pushes his fingers harder and he moves his tongue quicker against you, the two still working in unison to bring you closer and closer.

The fire ignites within you when Thranduil grazes you with his teeth. With a scream your legs constrict tightly around his head, your hands pulling hard on his hair. Your hips buck wildly against his face, and Thranduil has to remove his hand in order to keep hold of your body. He continues to suck on you until your orgasm has subsided and your vision returns properly.

“That is why this is my job.” Thranduil says smugly, pulling his mouth away.

As your legs hang limply over his shoulders and your hand releases his hair and flops onto your hip, you can do nothing but pant heavily.


End file.
